


Volatilis Vox

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Established Relationship, First Time, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sammy was born of a different kind. It was he who was meant to be the protector.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Because everyone needs to write a wing fic. I know it's been done before, so I tried to find a unique angle, I hope I did. Underage relationship, no sex until Sammy's fourteen, but the relationship starts when he's eleven.  


* * *

He awoke to his brother's screams. 

 

They were in the makeshift crib that his daddy had found; he slept with Sammy to keep the nightmares gone. His little brother's presence seemed to keep the bad man away.

 

Curling closer around his brother the five year old soothingly pet Sammy's hair. He was shaking, he didn't know what to do and daddy was out to see the angels, he always came back acting and smelling funny when he said went to meet the angels.

 

Their dad was usually back by the morning, when he woke them up, but when he looked over to the old fashioned clock he saw that it was only one thirteen in the morning.

 

That time was remembered well in his young mind. Even though Dean couldn't remember much of the time he had spent with mommy, he would always remember the time Sammy was born. His little brother.

 

Taking deep breaths, the kind his father had told him to take after he saw the bad things, he calmed down. He had to help his brother.

 

Shaking off the layers of thin blankets that were covering them he reached over to un-latch the side of the crib. Once he was out he quickly closed it back up so that Sammy wouldn't roll off and ran to the bathroom to grab some towels.

 

Young body working as fast as it could, he wetted them in cold water before shutting off the tap in the bath and running through the doorway back to the room.

 

When Dean had gotten back into the crib he pulled the fragile body up to his, cradling the growing body in his arms.

 

"It's gonna be alright Sammy."

 

The high childish voice seemed to echo in the room, he shivered for a whole other reason. He had just now noticed the shadows surrounding the room, closing in on him.

 

No!

 

He couldn't be distracted. Grabbing the flashlight that always rested beside his head when he slept he pulled the covers over his body, making a tent as he turned on the red plastic device.

 

The small space was washed with a dingy yellow light. Pulling the wet towels to his brother he pushed aside the damp curls, brushing his forehead softly, whispering soothing words.

 

After a half an hour the towels were now only slightly damp and his legs were hurting bad. He felt like he had to move but Sammy had finally quieted down and was now nuzzled into his lap, little fists clutching at his flannel bottoms.

 

With a sigh Dean carefully arranged the blanket so that his head and his brothers were left uncovered to the cool night air, along with his left shoulder. With a slight shiver he leaned back into the wooden side, bars pressing under his back uncomfortably as he fell to his dreams.

 

Little Sammy seemed to twitch for a moment, tiny hands seeming to fight with something before his young brow smoothed and his breathing slowed.

 

Dean never dreamt of the bad man again.

 

~~~

 

"Daddy! Dad!" 

John came running, letting out a string of curses that would make any person blush. Damn poltergeist!

 

It had trailed him when he had gone to check out the old home the person used to live in. When he had been collecting his things out of the trunk to bring them into the small townhouse he had rented he had noticed an odd smell.

 

Apparently, this spirit was attached to something, not somewhere. And he had just happened to pick it up. Fuck.

 

He slammed into the door, not taking the time to take out the key and the sight that greeted him left him short of breath.

 

His boy. His little seven year old was on the ground, looking up at that son of a bitch in fear. John saw red, his body seemed to lock up and his limbs felt like fire.

 

That bastard was trying to hurt his son. He was doing this to protect his boys and here was some damn low level fucker that was about to hurt his little boy.

 

Without thought he raised the loaded shotgun and fired off a round into the figure.

 

Once it had disappeared for the moment he ran to Dean, firing questions at a rate he knew his son wouldn't be able to understand.

 

But it seemed he got the gist of it because he was shaking his head and repeating that he was okay.

 

John nodded, glancing to make sure Sammy was in his bed that he shared with his brother. He was, eyes wide and darker than usual, clutching Deans pillow like a lifeline as he stared at his brother.

 

He wasn't hurt.

 

Making a split second decision he crouched down to his sons level and held out the shotgun.

 

"You listen here Dean, I know you don't know how to handle one of these, but you just need to pull this back. Look down the barrel at that little nub down there. Line it up with the spirit if it comes again, make sure that little red stripe is lined up with some part of it and pull the trigger. You got it?"

 

He could see the little body shaking as Dean nodded and grabbed to gun like it was some kind of holy relic, holding it tightly in his grip.

 

John nodded and gave his son a quick pat on the shoulder before he ran out to the car, which must have been where he picked it up as he sure as hell hadn't taken something with him.

 

After a quick searching he found what he was looking for.

 

The spirit he had been looking into for the crimes had died in an explosion way back in the day. It blew things everywhere, some bones were left, but he had covered those.

 

Lodged between the treads was a piece of wood, it looked like it had some engravings in it. Couldn't read them though, writing was so small.

 

He quickly dosed the thing in fluid before lighting it on fire, dropping it to the ground as it flared up.

 

Just his luck, managed to pick up the one damn thing that would connect to the poltergeist. He just kept on beating the freakin' near impossible odds.

 

Just remembering why he had no weapons on him he ran back to where his boys were huddled on the ground, weapon still in Dean's hand, un-used.

 

x

 

Dean tried to keep his arm steady. His dad had trusted him with something important, he had to make sure Sammy was safe and protected.

 

The aforementioned person was slowly crawling towards him, cropped copper hair falling into his eyes. When he got closer Dean could see the not so tiny frame coiled up in tension.

 

The uncertain, sleepy voice of the three year old sent a jolt of pain to his heart. He couldn't explain it, just the tightening of his chest, shortness of breath. Sammy was scared and he wasn't exactly helping.

 

"Dean? Wha' was tha'?"

 

With a deep breath he opened his free arm up as Sam came hurdling at him, latching onto his side with his head burrowed into his nightshirt.

 

Dean cocked the gun, resting it on his knee as the heavy metal was too heavy for his arm to hold up for a long time.

 

They sat there in silence for all of ten seconds before the thing showed up, odd look in its eyes as it gazed upon the small boys.

 

Dean had a really, really bad feeling about that look.

 

As the thing raised its arm the seven year old took his arm off of his brothers shoulders and grasped the shotgun in both hands. Just as he prepared to pull the trigger the thing moved in a blur, making the shotgun fly from his small hands and he was pushed down, flying backwards a couple of feet before he just suddenly stopped.

 

He looked up, confused before he saw his little brother. Then it turned to amazement.

 

Sammy was standing up, his balance a little wobbly at first as he stood in front of the spirit. The things eyes flashed for a second, its nostrils flaring as it simply stared down at his little brother.

 

Then it went up in flames.

 

As the last remnants of it disappeared in the mid-air blaze Sammy turned and threw himself at Dean. Wrapping around his older brother who was still struggling.

 

In that one moment he had seen Sam's eyes. They were different, the blue-green a sharp jade. Vibrant and dark at the same time before they had gone back to the normal liquid color.

 

Dean seemed to gain his thought process back. For that moment, Sammy had scared him something bad, in that moment he had known that he couldn't tell his dad.

 

Grabbing the gun he dragged them back to their original position, waiting for their father.

 

Their training had begun the next day.

 

~~~

 

When Dean was twelve, he had encountered his first real bully. He had watched them before, in the sides, but he had never done anything unless it got into violence, something physical that he could punch them for. 

This was his first because usually, he was the popular one; he did average, was smart, but didn't use it. He was taller than most of his grade and was most defined of all of them. He didn't have much muscle mass but he had a strength that could match most seniors.

 

This time, those things worked against him.

 

It had started with the leering at this school. He could tell it was the worst of the lot that they had ever encountered, stabbings in the bathroom of a freakin' elementary school.

 

He didn't like it, but over the years he had learned to adapt. Plus, he had to stay strong for Sammy, but Sammy wasn't as pretty as he was, in the eyes of the schoolyard at least.

 

Eyelashes weren't as long, lips weren't as thick and pouted even at a young age. Didn't have that scattering of freckles that people claimed made him look like an angel.

 

They got to him in groups, the older ones, round fifteen or so. They knew they couldn't take him alone, had seen him in fights before. He tended to be disruptive.

 

He was dealing with it the only was he knew how to, indifference. Annoy the hell out of them and they might get distracted and let their guard down.

 

"Hey pretty boy!" One of the taller ones called, Dean came up to his shoulder and damn it if he wasn't starting to get a little freaked out.

 

"We've seen you 'round the street. Seen your daddy too. Tell us, when he's drunk, does he put that mouth to good?"

 

Dean wasn't confused, he knew what they were implying. He didn't know how to deal with this, felt like crying but he couldn't because his dad would kill him.

 

If he couldn't hold up to a few punks, how the hell was he supposed to face a nasty ass demon without crumbling?

 

"What? Got no voice? Well, must not be you then, but what about that brother of yours? We seen him at the yard, you talking to him right and friendly like. Too friendly for brothers. See, you gotta let them get beat up on to get strong, but you don't do that. Naw, you make sure no one can touch him. Maybe 'cause you using his mouth?"

 

Dean snapped, they could talk about him and his father all the fuck they wanted to. But they would not imply that about his brother, even the thought of that innocence not being there made him sick to his stomach.

 

With a growl he launched himself at his attackers, going for the one that had said that.

 

The others were too shocked to react for a moment that was enough for a broken nose, bruised jaw, and one hell of a black eye.

 

By then they were raining down on him and the pain was just searing through him as a familiar voice rang loud in the yard.

 

"Stop!"

 

It was frightened, panicked, full of young confusion, but it had a power to it that Dean couldn't explain, it shocked him. He had felt that before, only it had been induced by a sight.

 

The kids that had been in a circle seemed to jolt and the kid that had been straddling him looked over his shoulder.

 

Sammy was standing there, the latest book clutched to his chest as he stared with smoldering eyes at his attackers. They were that color again, and his voice didn't sound any different from before, but there was something to it, that wasn't usually there, lying dormant.

 

"Dean?! Get off of him!" The book dropped from his arms, forgotten as he ran forward.

 

The kids all backed up, his brother was damn scary when he wanted to be, his freak height even at this age intimidating. Darkly tanned skin and eyes that were haunted, they'd been for a while, that underlying dark.

 

Plus he had this look on his face sometimes that scared the shit out of him. He was too young for that look.

 

Sammy walked right up and reached out a hand, glaring around once more before he looked down at Dean with wide puppy-dog eyes, innocence and indignation in his face.

 

"Are you okay Dean?"

 

He reached up to grab the long chubby fingers that held strength to them; Sammy was much stronger than he should be as well. When he was up and once more towering over his little brother he nodded and said in a gruff voice.

 

"Yeah Sammy, one second, 'kay?"

 

Sam nodded, face curious as Dean turned around and looked at the boys that were watching the interaction.

 

"You listen here and you listen good. You threaten me or my family one more time I'm going to hunt each and everyone of you little bitches down and hurt you something awful. And believe me, once I'm done with you, there'll be so many scars on your faces that you'll be the fuckin' uglies for the rest of your lives."

 

They all looked back, faces hard. His family was leaving soon anyways, they didn't have enough time to set up a plan to get at them.

 

Dean pulled on Sammy's hand, not letting go. As he walked past it he picked up Sammy's book and walked over to the bench where his brother had set his things down.

 

"We're leaving early today Sammy, that good with you?"

 

Sam nodded, holding out his free hand for his bag as Dean placed the book in it carefully. Sammy was a freak about not bending the pages.

 

~~~

 

When Sammy was ten, odd things started happening more and more often. Apart from the whole teen angst, I'm not going to cut my hair thing. As he got into the stage where he started jerking off in the shower and girls started to take an interest in him, he started acting more freakish then usual. 

There were always those single incidents throughout the years, nothing much, but those times where Sammy would get all terminator on him. But it'd started happened on less than reaction causing events.

 

Like when he had come home from a hunt with a cut on his chest from a loose claw of something he didn't even want to know about and when Sam had seen, he'd went all mother hen.

 

Making sure he was nice and doped up before the stitching, rounding on dad when he had time to stop worrying. And when he found out what it was, started researching things like crazy.

 

Then there was a whole jealousy thing that was more than a little weird.

 

He was fourteen, still got into a lot of fights except now it wasn't disruptive, it was cool. His look was considered rebel don't care, and he was always very popular with girls at new schools.

 

When he started to date nightly, he wasn't able to spend as many nights at home, reading with Sammy, playing odd ass games that they had made up on the road.

 

Sam started to act bitchy during the days, pleading just before he left, and when he got home, he was silent.

 

It was starting to get a little frustrating.

 

One night he broke and started yelling his head off at him when he had gotten in on him for scoring a sophomore who was supposed to be very easy.

 

"What the fuck is your problem man?!" When Sam opened his mouth to reply he continued his rant.

 

"And don't get started on, 'she's gonna give me something' or 'you're not following orders', Sammy. Tell me what in the hell is going on!"

 

Sammy scowled and just stared, not saying anything and rockin' that new brooding look.

 

Dean shook his head and brushed past him to grab his coat before heading out to meet the girl at the movies. He was running late.

 

Before he could get too far Sam's hand shot out, grabbing onto his arm. His hand was like a brand through the cotton of his shirt, he had always had freakishly hot skin, liked the heat as much as he was the heat.

 

His younger brother looked at him, it was the pleading stage, but there was something different this time. Something in his eyes that was more serious this time, more urgent.

 

Dean stared into his green eyes and couldn't look away. Something in that look had taken hold of him and wouldn't let go.

 

This was the best girl he had gotten so far. But he wouldn't, couldn't leave his brother like that.

 

He let out a long-suffering sigh before he pulled his arm free from the spidery hand and jogged up the stairs.

 

"Get your ass up here, you bitch. Since I'm not gettin' anything tonight you better have something good to do!"

 

The disembodied "Jerk!" that came up the stairs caused him to laugh.


	2. When Happiness Doesn't Work

  
Author's notes: Wings up next chapter!  


* * *

There was a tentative knock on the door. Dean groaned, raising his head from the lumpy pillow to glare at the door.

 

"What?!"

 

Sammy peaked his head out from around the door. His hair was ruffled and face frowning.

 

"Are you okay Dean?"

 

Dean shook his head, dropping it back to the thin material and pulling the scratchy comforter over his head. There was a heady pulse behind his forehead, like lead softly battering against his skull. Doesn't hurt in the beginning, but after a while, it builds until it's a fucking nightmare.

 

His nose was all stuffed up and he could breathe much without his mouth open. His limbs felt way too heavy, he didn't like lifting them.

 

So tired, sleep. Damn weak immune system-y children of Washington! 

 

There had been a rash of sickness throughout the high school and he was not exempted. Damn near fell over walking to the latest place they were holed up in and immediately fell into bed when he had gotten in. 

 

He sure as hell wouldn't be doing homework feeling like this.

 

Dean felt Sam enter the room, feet making soft, reassuring sounds on the hard wood before he settled down next to him. He laid a hand on the small of Dean's back, simply letting the weight sit there.

 

Dean sighed, leaning into the touch. It was nice, having something solid to focus on, something apart from the pain.

 

Then Sammy began stroking, large hands brushing up and down his spine in sweeping motions. Dean shivered, it felt really good.

 

He exhaled, sinking further into the mattress as Sam settled down behind him.

 

He was whispering something Dean couldn't make out, coaxing him into sleep. The pain in his head was drifting away, his body grew more heavy and tired and sleep now.

 

Sam smiled softly at his brothers resting form, careful to not jolt him too much, he laid on his side, head next to Dean's.

 

He continued going through the motions as he himself was lulled into sleep.

 

John frowned as he entered a silent house. Usually, this time of day, the boys were causing a ruckus. Yelling, fighting, rough housing, being boys. Or Sam would be reading while Dean listened to music. But it was rarely ever quiet.

 

With light steps he cautiously approached his sons room, pushing open the thankfully non-creaking door.

 

The sight he saw made a sad smile come to his face.

 

Dean was lying on his stomach, burrowed under the covers like he used to do when he was frightened, in pain. Sammy was on top of the covers, body curled around his oldest, hand on his back.

 

It reminded him of when Sammy was sick and Dean would take care of him.

 

John closed the door with a nod. He'd let the boys rest for tonight, they could get their asses up and moving tomorrow.

 

~~~

 

Dean grunted, someone was tapping his shoulder. Blinking blearily He turned his head to the side, looking at his brothers inquisitive face. 

 

He made an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat, a distorted 'What the fuck do you want?'.

 

Sam's voice seemed loud in his ear, all eleven year old curiosity. 

 

"What was wrong Dean? Are you better now?" Dean sighed at the concern, nodding his head. 

 

"Just a little head cold, Sammy. Sleep's done me good." With that said he promptly dropped his head back onto the mattress.

 

"Dean. We have school, and the office says if you miss anymore days, you'll be held back." 

 

Cursing the school in languages the fuckers probably knew nothing about he slowly began rising, getting ready. After a few stumbles and mishaps, he managed to get his jeans on.

 

Throwing a jacket over his worn shirt he rinsed out his mouth since they needed to get more toothpaste today and Sam would bitch if he didn't get to go through his usual morning ritual. 

 

With a quick shake of his head he picked up the ratty backpack on the floor, shouldering it as he went to the door.

 

A glance behind him showed Sammy looking at him with an amused light to his eyes, fond, like he was looking at his favorite puppy dog at the store.

 

He sighed, holding out a hand which Sammy eagerly took, letting him self be pulled and do the pulling to the school.

 

When they got there, half of the students were gone and the halls were oddly silent, it freaked him out a little when he let Sammy go to the connected middle school.

 

But then the annoying bell rang and he was in the back of the class, listening but not really paying attention. Apart from contrary belief, he did remember all that happened in his lessons, just chose not to apply it much. That and he missed near half of the school year with being on hunts.

 

Since all of his friends were gone and he really didn't want to sit at the usual table he could watch Sammy from, he decided to join his little brother, once again thanking the fact that the cafeteria was for all the years.

 

Allowed him to watch out for his brother and be with his friends at the same time. 

 

Sam looked surprised as Dean sat down next to him, face morphing into a smile when he saw that Dean would be eating there today.

 

All his little friends apparently had good immune systems as they were all there, staring up at him with him with neared awed or grossed out looks. Cooties or cool.

 

Shaking his head, he reached out a hand to ruffle Sammy's hair, didn't much pay attention to the rush of blood he felt when doing so. His hair felt nice, all soft and silky and dry, heat of his head warming Dean's hand like a furnace 

 

Didn't really pay attention to the fact that Sam had leaned into the touch, eyes falling closed for a brief moment before he let Dean's hand slip out of his hair.

 

~~~

 

When he was fifteen and Sammy was still two months from twelve, things changed.

 

They were in an inter-city school this time, it was different then he was used to. Usually they were in some small town where everybody knew everybody. A freakin' Cheers reunion each time.

 

But here, you were passed without a second glance, schedules were freaky, with multiple lunch times and A or B block class times.

 

Dean didn't like it much. He liked things simple, liked being able to walk to the apartment without almost getting hit by some type of car. 

 

Sammy was settling in fine, he was in a separate school this time, and Dean really, really didn't like that. But he appeared to appreciate being glanced over, was addicted to the big ass library and computer system the school had hooked up. 

 

And so he dealt like he always did, they'd be leaving soon anyways.

 

One good thing that made the school days perk up were the girls. He liked how some of them showed a little bit more skin than was accepted in the small towns, he could appreciate how they tended to be a bit more on the friendly side with him.

 

No, not much difference with most of them, but some of the girls were raised a little more loosely than in the towns where everyone was watching out for them.

 

Dean liked that part where they would let him pull them into a hallway and kiss them, even though they didn't know his last name.

 

And that was how he survived it, go to school, do the usual in classes and get some time with a new girl each week they stayed, then he would go home and make up for the missed time with Sammy.

 

Just sit next to him on the couch as he watched movies and Sam would rest his feet on his lap since their couch was way too damn small for his growing frame to fit.

 

That was another amusement of his, tracking Sammy's height, he'd been doing it since the last three towns, last six months. Nearly without fault, he had been growing an inch a month and Dean had to wonder if he would stop.

 

He was already nearing five foot eleven and Dean just knew that he would be taller than him, but that was okay, cause he was still a scrawny bitch that Dean could take on any day, anytime, name the place.

 

So they would have those quiet bonding times and then Dean would go out on a date.

 

Sam still went through his weird stages, but they were toned down now, only his eyes really showed what he was thinking about as Dean got ready. And when he came home, smelling of some cheap, girly perfume, he didn't say anything, just wrinkled his nose and told Dean he smelled.

 

Then one night, the latest girl had decided to give him his first blow job.

 

He had shot so quick that he was embarrassed, but she had smiled, laughter in her eyes as she looked up at him from on her knees.

 

He ignored the fact that her hair was the same length as Sammy's, same color. 

 

When he came home, it was the first time he had smelled like come, overpowering her scent. Sam's head snapped up, sharp nose picking up the scent, eyes widening as he identified it.

 

With a glare of seeming betrayal, something else, he stood, walking slowly forward.

 

He was all gangly limbs and skin and bones, but damn he was tall and in the shadows of the house where only his eyes were visible among his form, he seemed older than Dean.

 

In a quiet voice, just beginning to go into that deep stage he asked a burning question.

 

"What did you do?" 

 

It wasn't spoken in anger, there wasn't much affliction to his voice when he said it. It was fuckin' scary.

 

But he dismissed it, shaking his head and closing the door to their room.

 

"I went out with a girl Sammy." 

 

Sam eyes closed briefly before opening, a moment of exasperation breaking though the mask as he took a step closer.

 

"That's not what I meant Dean."

 

"It's none of your business, Sam. I just had a good time, what's it to you?" Bad question.

 

A glint entered Sam's eyes, hair falling into his eyes when he closed in, backing Dean against the wall of their bedroom.

 

"Because Dean, you're mine."

 

The he kissed him. 

 

Wide mouth pressing against his own fuller one, warm heat and moist texture.

 

And Dean had given in.


	3. Pain

  
Author's notes: Wings! And I slipped little references in this chapter from the show, no spoliers, but just small things from the very first episodes that were mentioned. Anyone who can spot them all gets a cookie *g*.  


* * *

It had been a week since he had been kissed by his little brother, sweet, innocent Sammy. Yeah.

 

Dean still had mixed feelings about it, it was his brother, he was supposed to protect him from everything, himself included. 

 

Sammy was much too young to be doing things like that, hell, he hadn't even kissed anyone till he was thirteen. But Sam was different somehow, still young, childish, but there was something, not off exactly, but just. He couldn't put it to words, it was impossible to voice the feeling he had about it.

 

And so he had let it happen because as much as it was wrong and no matter how much he had felt like shoving Sammy away, swiping a hand across his mouth and put it down as hormones, something had clicked.

 

No, he wasn't some fuckin' chick, it wasn't about warm feelings or defying right and wrong. It wasn't love at first sight like in the movies.

 

Dean couldn't explain what it was, but when those lips had been placed over his, there was that overwhelming sense of familiar, felt like being shocked, like when he had pulled a plug out of a outlet and gotten a jolt.

 

Like when he shuddered hard for no apparent reason.

 

And so he had kissed back, light and soft and gone way too fast. 

 

Sammy had been staring at him for a moment, eyes open and expressive, showing shock and curiosity, nervousness. It looked like he had no idea what he had done, just did it without thinking.

 

Probably had.

 

And that pink tongue had darted out, tasting his lips and he shook his head. Stared at Dean like he was some kind of alien before ducking his head and backing off, disappearing from the room.

 

Dean had just stood there, pressed against the wall in the dark, thinking. And he had stayed like that for what must have been ten minutes before he finally shoved off the plaster and collapsed on the bed, groaning as he pushed all the thoughts of no and yes out of his mind.

 

It had been a long night.

 

And the next morning, it was as if nothing had happened, they were their normal freaky selves, hiding knives away in special pockets made out of duck tape in their jackets, eating breakfast as they discussed the best way to kill whatever it was they were hunting at the moment.

 

The week had gone by in a flash.

 

Dean hadn't been with a girl since that night, not in that way.

 

Felt like betrayal.

 

~~~

 

Sam frowned as he stared at his brother, who was currently gazing at the television, not really watching. He did that when he was thinking.

 

What he was frowning about was the fact that he liked staring at that crease between his older brothers brow. Liked the serious expression in his eyes and couldn't help but be drawn to that mouth that had been bitten red.

 

He couldn't help the way he felt, how he'd always felt.

 

Growing up, he had dismissed it, didn't much think on it, something that had always been there.

 

But then the boys around school had started staring at the girls, and Sam never had much interest in that. He hadn't thought anything of it, just remained quiet as the boys would pull the girls bra straps.

 

He didn't like staring at the boys either.

 

Not saying he didn't like any of them, they just never made an impact on him, no lingering effect at all. So Sam had watched them, and began to notice the difference.

 

The fact that the other kids relationships with their brothers was nothing like his own. They weren't as close, sure, they loved each other, but there was always an annoyance, never peace with them.

 

Not like him and Dean, they fought, but it wasn't for possessions, stealing of toys, it was for something else.

 

Then he had really looked at what he knew and felt about his older brother. And he saw.

 

Seen the adoration turned into something else, began to see a little bit about the feelings he had. He still didn't know why he felt that way, but he was beginning to understand.

 

~~~

 

The day of Sam's twelfth birthday went by quickly. Same routine as usual, except Dean tried to make it a little better because dad was too wrapped up to remember anyone's birthday, even his own.

 

So Dean hauled ass and got up before even Sammy, and that was saying something as he usually got up hours before he actually got ready. Fuckin' insane.

 

Drawn some crap drawing on some binder paper of him and Sam surrounding a cake, felt like an idiot when doing it, and hesitated before he put it on his little brothers chest because what if he made fun of it? Wasn't that great of a drawing.

 

But then he had gone back to sleep and the smile Sam had when he had woken him up was worth it.

 

And during breakfast, Dean gave him an extra cookie.

 

School was the usual hassle, but that was okay, because Dean was sixteen and flunking out. That paired with his looks made girls stare at him and guys leave him alone because if he wasn't a bad boy, he was a freak.

 

So it went by and he had gotten all anxious because, fuck, this was the first time he had been away from Sammy on his birthday in years.

 

And when he picked him up at the middle school that day, he had hugged him.

 

Sam had blushed and punched him in the shoulder but there was no mistaking that leaning into the touch.

 

Dad seemed to have recalled that it was his youngest son's birthday sometime when they were at school, or he had read Dean's note. But when they had gotten to the small apartment, there was a crap, week old cake from the store sitting on the rickety table.

 

And it had meant the world to Sam.

 

Their dad's present was a pat on the back and a hug, but Dean had thought about his for a long time, and had gotten him something he had thought Sammy would like.

 

Wrapped up newspaper and tape was an old Walkman with some type of alternative band that Dean hated, and Sam knew it. Saw the price tag and had to know that Dean had walked into a store for that and bought it, which he hated doing.

 

Which had made it more special apparently because when he opened it, he had beamed up at Dean like Christmas had come early and given him a hug.

 

Then they had went to sleep, well, Dean had. And was woken up thirty minutes later.

 

They slept in the same room, but they had separate beds, so one could understand why Dean damn near attacked his brother when he had climbed in with him.

 

Dean had sighed because he had thought they had weened Sammy off of that a while ago, but then he had been looked at with those liquid eyes and simply shook his head, pulling Sam to his chest.

 

And Sam had kissed him, again.

 

A light brushing of his lips before they moved to his ear, saying in a voiced laced with sleep. 

 

"Thank you Dean."

 

Then those lips had swept to his neck, nuzzled and Sam had promptly fallen asleep with his head resting on the crook of Dean's shoulder.

 

And hell, how could Dean not get a wood from that?

 

~~~ 

 

With a quiet sigh, Sam let his head fall back onto the back of the couch. He hated the cold, made him feel sluggish. And wasn't it supposed to be summer?

 

But no, they had to go to the one place where it would be cold. Damn.

 

Dean was off somewhere, he still went out with girls, but he never came back smelling and looking like that. Sam was okay with that. 

 

As long as he came home.

 

He was half way to thirteen and now the differences were even more pronounced. Guys were dating, sprouting erections whenever a girl smelling nice would pass them and they were starting to become even more crude when they talked. 

 

And they were staring to notice.

 

Sam had always been a private person, there was never much he could actually say that was the truth, so he didn't really say much at all. But he did have friends who he hung out with at lunch.

 

Friends who started to realize that he never joined in their conversations, never even glanced at anyone with that admiration they did. They had never met Dean.

 

And they were questioning, becoming suspicious and soon, taunting. For some reason, the taunts didn't much bother him. What they said was the truth, he didn't like girls, but then again, he didn't like guys either.

 

So they were only half true, but who really cared?

 

~~~

 

When Dean was seventeen, he discovered something about his brother.

 

He had just gotten home from his friends house, dad was out on a hunt because Dean was old enough now to man the household without his father monitoring them.

 

Sam was now a full out teen, just experiencing the wonders of mood swings, and things had mellowed out between them.

 

So what if they shared the occasional kiss, Dean never thought much on them, like he had said, it didn't really feel wrong. Just a part of life.

 

They never got past the light touching of lips and skin, never let hands touch each other while doing the act. Dean didn't really pay attention to the fact that the touches were becoming more frequent, more natural and integrated. Didn't really want to see.

 

And so life went on per usual, until that night when he entered the house to darkness and anxiety in the air. 

 

He had gotten the shotgun from the living room and swept the house, coming to a worried stop when he reached his and Sammy's room.

 

There was the sound of painful breathing, thrashing.

 

When he heard that he threw open the door, gun forgotten with the sight his brother made on the bed.

 

Sam's shirt was torn off, young chest exposed to the hot night air, slick with sweat. His head was thrown back, face caught twisted grimace as fingers clutched the mattress, feet dug into the thrown off blankets at the end of the bed.

 

Dean breath caught in his throat as his brothers whimpering turned into a silent scream, protective panic mode had come back full force and he was bursting into the room.

 

"Sammy!" 

 

He stepped over the short distance to the bed and he reached out a hand, laying it on his brothers forehead. Sam seemed to flinch at the touch, leaned into it at the same time.

 

Then he turned, and Dean gasped.

 

His brothers back was covered by a mass of something slick with what looked like blood, sick fear coursed through him as he realized it was.

 

Sammy had wings.


	4. Beauty

Sam gasped, eyes clenched shut as waves of pain coursed through him. He didn't know what had happened, one moment he was at the desk, doing school work, the next an odd feeling had came over him.

 

Euphoric. Frightened.

 

He had near collapsed, curled up and held on to consciousness as the firmness of the bed became his enemy, he couldn't burrow, couldn't hide and he needed to.

 

He needed to get away from it, but it wouldn't, it wouldn't! He could feel the rivulets of burning liquid coursing down his face, get past the barrier that he had made by closing them.

 

Betraying him.

 

Hurt so bad. Had to get it off, the offending material pressing up close against his back, flaring the nerves into action.

 

Didn't know how, all jumbled up, couldn't think, breathe.

 

Distantly, he heard something, the door closing.

 

Help.

 

He tried to call, couldn't get his vocal cords to work. Then the sound of footsteps, cadence of his brother and Dean. Need Dean.

 

His brothers voice rang loud in the room, impossibly so, everything so muffled, he wasn't.

 

Dean was never to be blocked.

 

He came and Sam felt him laying a hand against his head and oh god it burned so bad, but at the same time it was Dean, he could feel, could concentrate on it.

 

Hurt. Good. Need. Want. Rip and tear, rough and wear, it's all in a days work. Silence.

 

Sam coughed, felt Dean stiffen as he turned away to do so.

 

It didn't hurt so much as before, the aftershocks stinging him, not searing. God, he felt better, but it was still pain and his mind was all jumbled. Sam didn't know exactly what had happened, it was all so confusing.

 

But Dean was there, and his presence was soothing and calming and Sam was starting to decipher what he felt. Not good, or bad, simply there. Not new, or old, but both.

 

A blessing and a curse.

 

Of what, he didn't exactly know, but Dean seemed to. He did as well, just couldn't reach it, like knowledge escaping to the back of ones mind, not coming back without a trigger.

 

When Sam looked back over his shoulder he saw his brother staring at him in wonder, confusion, fear fading. Sam reached out a hand, tried to reach Dean's face, but he was too far out of reach and Sam couldn't, but Dean seemed to read his mind and he leaned down, allowing him to place a hand on his face.

 

The touch was reassuring, Dean was solid and there, and nothing could happen to him with Dean there and nothing could happen to Dean while he was there.

 

A mutual comfort of knowledge.

 

With a gasp, a damn breaking, he tugged Dean forward, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his head against his chest. 

 

That was when his brother realize that he had a thirteen year old brother that was scared and needed him to make it better hugging him like it was his one lifeline. His hope.

 

Sam felt his brothers calloused hand falling to his head, stroking in a soothing motion, running his fingers through the lank locks, weighed down by sweat and something else.

 

Let his other arm come to wrap around him, a tight grip upon him that kept him grounded.

 

That's when he noticed that it seemed to be pressing against something, it felt like his back, but somehow different, his back was covered by what felt like another part of him but what could it be.

 

He didn't have anything else to cover it with that felt like that.

 

Okay, freak out mode arriving, full speed ahead.

 

Sam started hyperventilating, what had happened?! What had changed and oh god, what was that. 

 

He knew it was idiotic, in these situations the worst thing to do was panic, but he couldn't help it dammit! He started struggling, pulling away, trying to twist out of the tight hold to see what was on him.

 

But then there was Dean, turning his head, turning it up, all comfort and love and devotion, speaking in a soft voice.

 

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy. Nothing's wrong, just different, it's going to be alright, calm down, can you do that for me?"

 

Sam swallowed, nodding and scrunching up his nose as he smelled the copper of blood. With a long drawn out sigh, breathing in and out slowly through his mouth he shifted, getting to his knees on the bed, becoming level with his brothers chest as he looked into the green eyes so like his own.

 

"Can I see?" 

 

Dean frowned, eyes clouding slightly before he gave a jerky nod. Lowering his arm to under Sam's knees, letting the other drop from his head to his back, careful of avoiding whatever it was he picked Sam up.

 

Slowly, gently, trying not to jostle him as he carried Sam to the bathroom.

 

Being against the solid build up of muscle, shifting beneath him as they worked to keep him up was more soothing then any breathing exercises could be and soon, he was more relaxed.

 

Still freaked out, but he could deal, he had Dean, they would figure it out together.

 

Then he was placed, sitting atop the counter, his older brother between his legs, hands steady on his knees as Sam turned his head to look into the mirror.

 

~~~ 

 

Dean could see the moment Sam truly understood what he was seeing. At first he had just stared, eyes wide, as if it was a dream, something else. But then he had reached behind him and felt what Dean had.

 

The soft, velvety rough texture of feathers. But it was an odd type, they seemed to almost blend to become a seamless run of what seemed like leather, but if you looked closely as they were doing now, felt the dips and changes, you would see it for what it was.

 

Wings like a birds.

 

The single feathers were long, had a strange grace about them. 

 

Dean wasn't exactly sure what color they were, they were coated in muddy red blood, as was Sam.

 

Sammy, his little brother. And he had to clean Sam, because he was too pure for this, and the streaks of blood and sweat didn't fit, because it was Sammy.

 

So when he was sure his brother had a good enough look he went over and turned on tepid water, not cold or hot, because either one could hurt his back, the muscles that must have gotten pulled in the process of what had happened.

 

Turning back, he held out a hand to his brother which Sam took, with that trust he went forward and pick Sam up, taking him to the shower and slowly getting in with him, letting his clothes get soaked and not really caring at the moment.

 

Sam gasped at the water hitting his back and Dean muttered a quiet sorry before he began gently washing off the coating of bodily fluids Sammy had gained in his plight.

 

Once he was satisfied he had gotten all of it, he cleaned Sam's hair, moving down to his back and studying his body for open wounds, when he saw none, he used soap. 

 

Due to the temperature of the water, it took a lot longer than usual for it to turn cold, but once it did, Sam seemed to be standing more alert, watching Dean through a curtain of dripping hair as he worked with concentration.

 

Turning off the flow of water and stepping out he quickly stripped of his now soaking clothes, drying off with a scratchy towel before putting on worn boxers, reaching to do the same to Sam.

 

Once both brothers were dry and covered, Dean guided Sam to his bed, avoiding Sam's.

 

Gently turning him, he took one of his shirts that was soft from wear and began drying the wings. In the shower he had noticed how sensitive they were, how connected they seemed to be to both pain and pleasure.

 

A stoke there got a gasp, a brushing the wrong way got a different type of one.

 

For five minutes he simply sat there on the uncomfortable bed, legs folded beneath him as he worked off the moisture. The droplets of water seemed to glide down the glossy wings, which helped the process as they were big ass wings and would have taken a lot longer to dry if it wasn't for that.

 

Once satisfied, he pulled back and stared at the color, watching in fascination.

 

The wings were a chestnut color, matching Sammy's hair, except as he watched, the shade shifted, becoming lighter, darker, copper and black, all seeming to mesh to become one array of browns and golds.

 

They were beautiful.


	5. What They Are and Shall Remain

  
Author's notes: I wanted to go into a type of Native American legend, and did find one that could work. But their culture, beliefs, and lore was too beautiful and natural to tarnish or apply to words. But while researching, I did find a nifty poem that led to the reason ;).  


* * *

Soul Mates

 

A call is heard, two souls stir,

to taste the wind as one; 

 

One, the protector, a protective spirit,

father of many; 

 

One, the life giver, one who nourishes,

mother of all; 

 

Together a bond is made for life;

To share, to be, as one... 

 

\--Donna J. Jacobson--

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Can you move them?"

 

Sam sighed, irritated because now that the pain had worn off, his nerves still felt like they were on fire and he had a headache like no other from it and Dean asking if he could move his fucking wings wasn't really helping.

 

He was thirteen, he already had to deal with the messed up imbalances of chemicals and odd thoughts about his brother that he was pretty sure not many others had, he didn't need a pair of wings growing out of his back on top of it.

 

But for some reason, he balked at the thought of having them gone.

 

Then Dean was asking that question again and the image of him looking at Sam with those eyes, helping him came back in a rush and all he could do was breathe another sigh before straining his back muscles.

 

And that's all it truly was, straining, he couldn't lift them very much at all. It felt like when he had broken his arm when he was nine and it hadn't healed for a month, faulty cast so it had taken longer to set.

 

It was his right hand and after getting the cast off, he could barely write for a whole other month because the muscles had gotten so weak.

 

So now not only did he have wings, but weak ones, great, just wonderful.

 

He could almost hear Dean frowning.

 

~~~

 

Dean watched, feelings all mixed up at the sight of those wondrous things struggling, seeming to falter before settling back down again.

 

When he saw Sammy's back muscles straining still, he reached out a hand to the now appendages and pet them down, his hand a heavy weight against them.

 

Once satisfied he turned to look at his brother, at the expression on his face, one of confusion and shock, frustration.

 

Shaking his head he turned his brothers head towards him, not judging the distance, or Sam pushing forward. 

 

Their lips met, a sweet embrace, soft and tender, comforting. All their kisses seemed to give that, comfort, the feeling of being grounded.

 

And they remained that way for the moment, a press of lips and cheek, not moving, just letting the touch happen before Dean pulled away to stare.

 

Sam's young face was freshly scrubbed, wings laid about around him, only clad in light gray boxers while the rest of his body was bare, all showing the beginnings of musculature.

 

He looked like an angel, but not. He had a glow about him that came with youth, and sure, the wings kind of added to that thought, but for some reason Dean knew that he wasn't one.

 

Which brought up the question of what exactly was he, 'cause he sure as hell wasn't purely human. Dean didn't care though, because whatever he was, he was still Sammy, and as long as he stayed his same freaky self, it wouldn't matter how many more traits that made him the freak he was appeared.

 

But then the door slammed, heavy footsteps came from the living room. 

 

Glancing at the clock in panic, Dean saw that it was eight, they definitely couldn't be asleep now, Dad had left at four, they were wide awake as always. He would be even more inquiring as to why they went asleep hours early then if he found them awake.

 

Or he could find that his youngest had wings, and wouldn't that be a fun conversation? 

 

Sam had heard it too, Dean could tell by the look on his face, blank and yet the most open expression he had ever seen. 

 

Then something amazing happened, like it hadn't enough before.

 

His wings didn't shrink, or become invisible, or anything like that, but they seemed to mold over him, folding to cover his back completely, bulk of them worming under him to brush his legs.

 

Then they just seemed to, become his skin. Forming an odd type of living tattoo over his back and legs, the same color, looking like an incredibly life like ink drawing. 

 

Dean just noticed now that the color stayed, blended together with his skin. Because Sammy was golden all over, lips and redder shade of it, hair catching the light to turn copper, eyes natural flecks of hazel in the green dominating. And it seemed to take the comparison of those wings to get him to see why Sam was glowing.

 

He was different shades of gold. Other colors mixing in, complimenting. He was like a painting in motion.

 

What Dean didn't know, was that so was he.

 

But then Sammy got over his shock, much faster then him, but then again, he wasn't seeing what Dean was. Grabbed a shirt, tugging it over his head and pulling Dean's blankets up to his lap, completely masking the markings.

 

And the glow was gone, oh, Dean was aware of it, could still see it lingering, but now it had a duller light, wasn't as obvious.

 

Now Sammy had his normal presence back, still there and alluring, but not near as much as when the freaky ass tattoo had been exposed.

 

Amazing.

 

~~~

 

With a breath of relief Sam motioned for Dean to cover the blood that had dried into his bed, saw him throw an old black sheet over it with a grimace before coming back to sit beside Sam.

 

Reaching for a book he flipped open to his previous page and started reading while Dean turned on his Walkman, normal brotherly happenings, nothing suspicious.

 

And when John opened the door, he glanced around, raised and eyebrow, so reminiscent of Dean's expression which was Dad's first.

 

Then he left without a word as he and his brother nearly collapsed in thanks.

 

He wouldn't be able to hide under covering clothing forever, but for now, they were okay.

 

~~~

 

The next week passed slowly, cautiously, and Dad was starting to look at him with that 'What in the hell have you done now?' expression because he never went around in shorts anymore as the weird wings type tattoo reached his calf.

 

And when he was hurt in the routine hunt, he had waited until they got home and for Dean to get a sheet before he let himself get patched up.

 

Then the wings came free again.

 

He didn't exactly know how yet, couldn't explain it, but they did. Folded back when he was in panic, came out when, well, when he was jealous.

 

Dean got over the constant want to watch over him, making sure nothing else happened, or at least pushing it aside. He started dating again.

 

And something had shifted, the normal possessive need to have Dean with him elevating, blood boiling.

 

His jealousy rose, and when Dean came back, Sam couldn't help himself. He had risen, gotten in Dean's face, and when Dean didn't know what he had done wrong, it had just happened.

 

The wings came, ripping out of his flimsy clothes and cloaking both of them both, Flaring in rhythm with Sam's growling.

 

And Dean had backed away, staring in a placating matter which hadn't really helped all that much. He seemed to think he knew what was going on and why, had seen his little brothers jealous streaks before.

 

But this was different, there was something else. A knowing of the fact that Dean was his, and no one else could have him.

 

Dean just didn't seem to get that.

 

He would have to learn.

 

~~~

 

Dean shook his head, how did he get into these situations? It seemed to be that every year, he was pushed against a surface by his brother and told that he couldn't go out with girls, and shouldn't he not be getting hot by that?

 

He was seventeen and over the different towns, the variety of people he met, he had experienced a lot of things.

 

Had learned of his likes and dislikes. He had never been attracted to another male, and he would have known if he would be if that was so. And the girls he had been with had gotten very possessive before, busting his balls for being flirted with by others.

 

He had never liked that at all, it annoyed him and usually that was when the relationship turned sour.

 

What he couldn't understand was the fact that Sammy was his brother, a boy, and the majority of the times something like this had happened, had been caused by jealousy. 

 

But as he was pushed against a wall he had to wonder how many fucking doors he would have to slam into before something permanent happened to his back.

 

He'd be a fuckin' old man walking around with a hand on his back before he knew it, that is, if Sammy wouldn't stop.

 

So all he could do was try and get his little brother not to do it, and that helped.

 

Now he was held against the wall. So he couldn't move after being slammed, great.

 

Then Sammy was in his face, and Dean could see. This wasn't the normal, well, normal for them, tantrum, it seemed liked the ever building dam had just broken.

 

That silent plea in Sammy's eyes turned into a command, a purpose. The set of his jaw was stronger, and despite the fact that Sammy was only an inch taller, he was towering.

 

And Dean realized what that look all tied into, what all the varying emotions and wants and needs all lead.

 

Protect. He saw it every time he looked at a mirror.

 

A fiery passion and want to make sure of safety and knowledge of who belonged to who. 

 

Dean to Him. Him to Dean.

 

They were each others. 

 

The nurturer. That's what he really was in the end, he watched over Sammy, cared for him.

 

Sammy stood strong, stopped, watched, waited.

 

The wings changed when Dean was next to him, when to be shielded from punishment both boys were doubtless to receive from their father, they would have to be normal. No cause for suspicion, they had hidden.

 

When Dean came home, smell of another on him. Danger and not here, illusions of being with another, they had come forth.

 

And in that single second, his mind made all the connections, and that was when Dean discovered the hidden knowledge, what the bond between them was. And so did he. 

 

Sammy was the protector.


	6. Okay

This was the year Sam would be going to High School, with Dean. And Sam couldn't help but feel excited and a little frustrated at the fact.

 

He would get to watch over his brother for the entire year, and find him if he needed to. He would have to watch girls throw themselves at Dean and wouldn't be able to do anything until they got home.

 

It would be a little hard to jump his brother in a crowded hallway and not have social services called on them.

 

Though he knew Dean wouldn't return their affections, not now. 

 

The incident, as they both referred to it, had happened a week ago, and they had both come to a realization. That neither could really not do what the other wanted, not truly anyways. 

 

And Sam knew it had been a little unsettling for Dean to figure out that he wasn't doing much protecting. The dynamic had changed.

 

It was Sammy who fought to keep him untouched by emotional and physical trauma. It always had been, Sam couldn't help but think when reviewing their lives. Though what Dean did could be taken as being the protector.

 

But really, he was the one after that. When Sam needed him, he was there, always. 

 

He was the sword, Dean the shield.

 

He had something in him that rose like a storm when Dean was in distress, he challenged and parried. And when he was bent near backwards from the stress, of living the life that they did and goddammit being thirteen and knowing those things, Dean would come and make it better.

 

He would block out the outside world until it was only them and nothing else really mattered then, because it was Sam and Dean, Dean and Sam, and that was the way it was, the way it would always be.

 

All symbolic spiritual stuff aside, this would be a double edged dagger and dammit! Maybe he really had been reading too many medieval time period novels lately. 

 

Damn Dean.

 

~~~

 

Top of the food chain, that's what people said about being in the twelfth grade, wasn't true. Because there were still freshman who lorded over seniors and grade year didn't really make a difference in the whole equation. 

 

And Dean was what he always was, cool new transfer that people thought they became friends with in an instant. One conversation with questions like 'Do you do drugs?' or 'Do you drink?' and depending on your answer, the faster you got in. 

 

Dean drank and he was good looking.

 

He was accepted.

 

Sammy was different, he didn't thrust himself forward and people would glance at him, but they would never approach because he had the look of a geek and their interests were on the other side of the spectrum. 

 

He would make friends with six or so people, and that would be that until they moved.

 

But now they were in High School, and people were a whole lot nastier. And Sammy could easily take care of himself.

 

The hard part was that Dean would have to come to terms with that little fact.

 

~~~

 

It was hard for Sam, the first few days, working out an agreement with the P.E. teacher to not have to wear the normal uniform because of an injury that couldn't be exposed to the cold, or mist, or gravel without being aggravated.

 

Took a well practiced look and Dean's very believable ability to forge to get it, but he did.

 

The classes were easy, they always were, that's why he went ahead, which probably led to the problem of it being too simple. 

 

It was hard to watch Dean, walking through the corridors with a gaggle of friends following him, all mixing with each other as they kept pace.

 

Was slightly easier to deal with now that the spark between his big brother and a girl wasn't there anymore.

 

Didn't make him want to punch the girls who tried any less.

 

Their relationship behind doors had progressed, there was an acceptance that hadn't been there before. 

 

When Sam came home and kissed Dean, his brother would respond, pressing close, bodies aligning and they were both teenage boys, so that led to embarrassing circumstances. 

 

But Sam couldn't bring himself to care because when that mouth was on his, tongue closing in and drawing, twisting around in a primal dance, everything felt right.

 

And he knew in that one moment that he would do anything to keep this thing safe, to keep that heat intact and with him.

 

So he practiced.

 

Alone, with Dean, didn't matter so long as he drew upon the same thoughts. Both similar.

 

Retreat, protect Dean from exposure. Come out, protect Dean from other peoples manipulations and lust. It was most difficult to stop them from coming out when Dean got into a fight, one need going against another, he had learned to deal.

 

So instead of having his wings burst out to stop the violence, he joined, not caring of his tarnished record as long as Dean was safe.

 

When he took on those three football players who had smarts to go along with sheer girth, and they crowded around with a plan of attack as kids cheered them on, Sam fought too.

 

Took his side next to Dean before the first punch was thrown and then those instincts were back.

 

Separate they were fighters who it would take at least two experienced hands to bring them down, the players were fighters as well, and while Dean would have put up one hell of a fight, he would have lost in the end.

 

But when they were together, something just seemed to click. It was like they were one, anticipating the next move from one another, knowing the best way to counter.

 

Upper cut, left jab, five, one, ten, spin kick.

 

And there they were, both breathing heavily, near leaning on each other as the other students stood in silence. They hadn't attacked in a school yard manner, it was precise, killers stance.

 

They had threatened Dean, they had been dealt with appropriately. Dean apparently felt the same.

 

Now the kids were scared because they had seen that glint, and that, that wasn't accepted in this place. Too sheltered, too cloaked to see.

 

And it was okay they were both the outcasts for the remainder of the month, because they still had each other.


	7. Cruel Signs

  
Author's notes: Some may be wondering on why I'm starting to show a lot of High School experiences and thoughts revolving around the boys. These events aren't doing anything major to their characters, but some are shaping the way the boys will become in later years. This chapter particularly. I'm drawing on a lot of these from my own and my friends experiences, so I apologize if this chapter causes any offence. Chapter a little darker than usual near the end.

Well, after that rather ominous message, thank you for reading!  


* * *

Air was softly brushing past his face, accompanied by the sweet scent of musk and youth. Dean almost felt like laughing at the circumstances, he was having his own personal air conditioning provided by his brothers wings.

 

Freakin' wings. Damn, he would never get tired of saying that.

 

Albeit, it was freaky in the beginning, a little bit terrifying, but after that faded, I mean, come on! It was like turning into a superhero, it was cool.

 

Plus, the sight of those appendages catching the light just so as they gently beat back and forth, up and down, twisting in various angles to build strength was a major turn on. A perk to that being that Sammy had to take his shirt off to practice and that exposed his growing muscles.

 

It should be more than weird, the way their relationship was, brothers all the same, but acting as something else. But it wasn't, he couldn't bring himself to feel it because something fell into place when they were together.

 

Hell, when he even glanced at his little brother, he felt more at home than he ever had at the hunt, and that was saying something.

 

And he was just so damn mature, which weirded him out way more than the wing thing. He still acted like the age he was, all teenage angst and the occasional bout of depression that lasted for all of two hours before he was back to glaring and huffing away.

 

But there were still those times, when he would just stare at Dean without blinking and a whole lot of things would flash past those eyes that shouldn't have been there for years, till he had experienced things.

 

Vise versa, both had their moments, equal, and that made it past the natural feelings into his mind to ease the should be worrying a bit.

 

And that was why he could now stare at that smooth, seamless stretch of skin without cause for concern.

 

Could appreciate the newly acquired six-pack that rested upon the wiry frame. Which was a nice addition as well, puberty came with a lot of positives for Sam it seemed. Or at least for Dean, cause he sure as hell could enjoy them.

 

He blinked back to reality when he heard Sam heave a sigh, dropping to the bed on his stomach as sheets clung to the sweat glistened skin. Must be hard work to do that, and what kind of big brother would Dean be if he didn't try to help?

 

A smile on his face he silently stalked to stand above Sam, watching his shadow ripple across the wings before he swiftly stroked one of the feathers.

 

Sam gasped, jerking as he tried to raise his head. That smile turned into a smirk as he grasped the silky hair to press his head back against the pillow.

 

"Don't worry, Sammy, I'm just gonna give your wings a little TLC, they've been working hard."

 

With that said he straddled the bony thighs to get better positioned between the wings as he really got to work.

 

It was kind of hard to figure out how to massage wings, but he managed well enough. 

 

Smoothing his palms over them he started doing this weird tapping things with his fingers as he ran them across, gently kneading as they went along.

 

~~~

 

Sam bit back a groan, pillowing his head in his arms as his brother worked his hands over him. He felt like twitching, those little movements that he sometimes got when jerking off.

 

But he held them back because Dean would get way too smug for his liking if he showed that he liked it that much.

 

So he contented himself with letting out sighs and turning into liquid on the bed.

 

Dean had his weight just so, not too heavy as to crush, but not too light as to not feel at all. A constant warm pressure pressing across his upper legs and back. Positioned so that Sam could feel the hard outline of his arousal perfectly against the small of his back.

 

And dammit if that didn't make him want to twitch as well.

 

~~~

 

Okay, this was so not cool. Who did this type of crap? Sam was standing in front of his locker, a slight tremor running through his body.

 

They had just arrived at school, the latest dinky ass, closed minded place that they had found.

 

It had been about a month and Sam had attracted some attention, he had been doing that lately, like he had said before, puberty did wonders for Sammy. When most boys were going through their awkward years, something which Sam had done ages ten through twelve, he was just coming into his own.

 

His height had already topped Dean's and he was still growing, thankfully at a slower rate, he never had much trouble with acne, except for the few moles on his face, and hell, that made the kid even more beautiful.

 

Then there were the muscles, and Dean could wax eloquent about those for hours and a day.

 

Over all, he was a catch, a big one.

 

So even though it had happened only a week after they had gotten there, girls started to ask him out.

 

All kinds, pretty, tall, short, average, skinny, thick, light and dark. 

 

And Sammy refused every one of them. Now if that wasn't more than a little conspicuous, Sam never even looked at girls, and Dean could understand that, he didn't exactly like to either anymore, but he kept up pretenses. Sammy wasn't like that.

 

Yeah, he noticed that people always suspected things, you couldn't not really, but this was the first time anyone had ever gone past teasing.

 

Scrawled across the lime green locker was the word faggot. Dean saw red.

 

You wouldn't be able to tell unless you were looking closely, but he could see those shakes, the tell tale clench of jaw that showed that Sam was holding back tears.

 

Without a word his little brother spun around, not looking up as he stalked towards the exit, hair covering his face.

 

Dean took a deep breath, fighting not to draw his weapon on the sons of bitches surrounding him, staring with cruel glances, others shying away. He simply glared at all of them, a promise in his eyes before he followed Sam out of the school, silence and tittering following him.

 

When he got into the parking lot he saw his brother taking long strides, near running with the want to get home.

 

Dean ran, catching up to his brother after a few seconds of sprinting. He slowed to his side, not talking as he steered them into the cleared lot next to the school, pulling both of them behind an old school bus on cement blocks.

 

~~~

 

Concealed and surrounded by his brothers presence, Sam began shaking, every feeling acute now that they were away from the surreal experience.

 

His breath became hitching and he fought off sobs, clenching his eyes tightly.

 

When his brothers strong, steady arms wrapped around him, somehow managing to curl his body around him, Sam broke down.

 

He clung to that solid being and couldn't hold back any longer, couldn't keep his thoughts from flooding his mind.

 

And he cried for the first time in years, not tears from physical pain, but the cruelty of youth. 

 

Fuck, he hated crying.

 

~~~

 

Dean held on tight, once more cursing the bitches that had done this to his brother, innocent Sammy, who had never done anything to them.

 

The bastards were going to pay.


	8. Retribution

  
Author's notes: I got the inspiration to write this chapter when I heard this video (http://youtube.com/watch?v=fDdppLfNTsg) of Jensen singing with Jason. I know there are a lot clips of them singing together, but not many when you can clearly hear Jensen as in this one, his voice is the higher one, and I swear I cried, there's just something about it.  


* * *

Sam swallowed roughly, burrowing his head further down the covers, silently vowing, I won't cry. It wasn't that big of a deal, stuff like that happened all the time in towns like this.

 

Then why did it have to hurt so bad?

 

Comments had been made before, in passing and in his face, rumors had been spread. But there was something about having it written, in front of everyone, in front of Dean.

 

He jerked as a light touch rested on his arm, Dean's sleep-rough voice came muffled through the blanket.

 

"Come'n Sammy."

 

He allowed himself to be gently tugged from the bed and pulled the few feet into Dean's own, a few moments of fumbling came until they settled down, Dean wrapping his blanket swathed arms around him, murmuring into his hair.

 

Sam's throat constricted and his body shook, and then Dean started to sing.

 

Dean never did that unless it was to some song with rough, drunken voices, his matching them in a lower rasp, but this was different.

 

He recognized the lyrics as the one that he had been playing on his cd player, a girly song that his brother had apparently been listening to when Sam wasn't watching.

 

His voice was so much better. It was high, sweet tone, almost feminine, but not. There was such an emotion behind, an undeniable force that Sam's breath's turned into quiet gasps, struggling to remain silent in order to catch every sound.

 

Sam clenched his eyes tight and wrapped his arms in turn, under his brothers thin cotton shirt to palm his pleasantly warm skin, twined his legs between Dean's and let the soothing lyrics wash over him, and he cried. That voice, there was something about it, something indescribable, and Sam couldn't stop the flow.

 

Dean simply tightened his arms in response, pulled Sam closer to him and continued singing until Sam could cry no more, until his throat was sore and eyelids heavy, face weary from the weight of expression, and the tiredness of the days swept him away, the soft tones still ringing in his ears.

 

~~~~

 

Dean sighed when he felt Sam's body go lax, letting his voice fade out. He didn't like to sing in his true voice all that much, when he wasn't forcing anything, it was always like that. He had gotten teased about it once he had hit puberty, and then he just stopped, learned to sing differently.

 

Dropping a kiss to the slightly damp forehead he curled himself around his younger brother, heat enveloping both as one rested in disruptive peace, the other in strange calm.

 

Revenge would soon come.

 

~~~

 

Sam blinked, yawned widely and attempted to stretch, only to find his limbs trapped between someone else's. Groaning in despair he dropped his head. 

 

Dean usually didn't wake up for hours after he did, before then he was dead to the world.

 

Then a small sniffling noise met his ears, a near silent mewl in the back of his throat, and Sam relaxed.

 

He could stay still for a few more hours.

 

~~~

 

Dean closed his eyes briefly, leaning forward as his hands clenched on the sink, he had to stay calm, to make sure he didn't get caught, for Sammy's sake. It wouldn't be hard to find who had done it, kids who did these things, they like to brag, real smug sons of bitches.

 

Dean would show them why that was a bad thing. 

 

Sam's loud knock suddenly came from the other side of the door, causing him to jump.

 

"You ever gonna come out of there, Pretty Boy?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, just don't break the damn door, Sasquatch!"

 

Sam smirked as he opened the door, the kid was starting to pick up way too many of his traits. He gave himself away though when he brushed past Dean, lightly brushing their hands as he went.

 

Softy, Dean didn't much mind though.

 

Their routine went by as usual, working in coordination that if they acknowledged, disappeared, an unconscious grace of movement that only happened so often. Soon they were clamoring out of the house, shoving each other to get out of he door first, laughter muffled so to not bother their dad at the kitchen table.

 

That laughter dwindled the closer they got to the school and that made Dean all the more determined to fix it as best as he could, get 'em back. Might not reverse the damage, but it would sure as hell give them both a laugh.

 

Just as the were turning the corner Dean reached out and let his hand fully envelop Sam's, allowing a small comfort before they had to separate. 

 

His brother gave a weak smile, eyes already shadowing as they did when he hid himself, squeezing back as he let go and walked a step ahead, wanting not to be behind him no doubt. Sam had always had to deal with things himself when it affected him, not that Dean ever let him, but he had to let Sammy try.

 

The bell seemed to have raised a few notches over night, the usual shrill signal raising to a shriek and damn that hurt! Wincing, he covered his ears, nodding to Sam before he ducked into the building, not bothering to acknowledge the already migrating students. People seemed to have radars like that, able to know where one person was without thought, it had to be something Supernaturally related, nothin' was that good at tracking something with so many scents, sounds, and sights around.

 

Shaking his head he went to English, one of his favorite lessons in the fact that the teacher didn't mind if most of the class was spent doing nothing, as long as you passed the tests and aced the homework, you were good, and Dean could always do those things without much trouble. 

 

Dropping his pack next to the uncomfortable plastic too small seats, he settled in for the next hour. He couldn't imagine what Sam must go through sitting in these, Dean could barely sit in them without fidgeting if he wasn't slouched down, feet under the desk in front of him.

 

Pulling out his notebook he began doodling random shapes as the girls who had claimed those seats in front of him before he had come into the class turned to speak with him.

 

"We heard about what happened to your brother, Dean." 

 

He shrugged his shoulders tightly, glancing up briefly from his oh so lovely game of hangman, the anticipation of what the word would be was killing, feel the sarcasm.

 

"Yeah, so?"

 

Their faces were curious, eyes shiny plastic as they gleamed with the knowledge of something he didn't know, a hesitation of fake pity and want to get on his good side.

 

"Well, what'd ya' think? It was awesome, wasn't it?"

 

His hand clenched so tight around the pencil in his grasp that it broke with a sharp crack. The girl closest jumped, eyes wide when he glared into them.

 

"What in the hell would give you the idea that I would like somethin' like that?"

 

Conscious of the rest of the class, the girl he had forgotten the name of the moment he had been told leaned forward.

 

"Well, they got the idea from you."

 

His head snapped up so fast he swore he got whiplash. Forcing calm, his voice lowered an octave, the sheer incredulity of that thought shining through.

 

"What?" A sharp snap such as when the pencil broke. The girls were starting to look more and more unsure as moments passed, gleam gone and replaced, they were expecting him to actually support what had been done. Idiots.

 

"You know how a week ago Shelly told me that Lisa's sister had been turned down by him, and no one turns down Marcy. So Patty came up with the idea that maybe he already had a girl and he was just being loyal, 'cause you know, he seems the type. And so we asked you and you said he didn't have one and that he never had, and that sorta' implied he was gay, because you're his brother, and you would know.

 

"So we kinda' told Danny and his friends and they, well, they thought they should do something about it, to show that those kinds of people aren't much appreciated around here."

 

At his glare she rushed through the rest.

 

"And we- I just thought you would like it since you're the one who almost said it, and you're like us."

 

Dean closed his eyes at the sheer stupidity of the reasoning, thanking the fact that he had nothing his hands he leaned forward, coming within an inch of the girls face as he growled.

 

"Honey, you understand one thing, I am nothing like you. He's my brother, you ever get any reasoning like that up in your pretty little head, I'll fix it right up, won't matter if you're a girl, 'cause we're all the same, aren't we? Now you will shut the fuck up, face the front and you will not speak of my brother, ever again, understand me?"

 

Letting out an almost squeak she nodded, facing the front. Dean knew she was glaring at the whiteboard.

 

His remarks had caused this, oh, Barbie Dolls gossip had sure as hell helped, and the guys who had done it definitely weren't innocent, but his dismissal had been he trigger.

 

Cursing, he rose from the desk, grabbing his stuff and leaving, didn't matter if he got a detention, they would leave before he could serve it and the next school would never bother.

 

He could hear the startled exclamation behind him and bitterly smirked, he had some stuff to pick up, things to do, people to kill.

 

X

 

Now you see, Dean had been doing some thinking on this. The guys who'd done this, pain wouldn't do much for them, bones would fix and bruises would fade, he needed to do something that would stick with them.

 

So he'd resorted to humiliation.

 

But there were a lot of ways to do that and they were all so appealing. So Dean chose to mimic what they feared, wouldn't it be oh so terrible if the local hometown boys were discovered gay?

 

And that brought him to the supplies, he had to set it up carefully, had to be realistic. He acquired some things from favors, friends, and a whole lot of charm. Had to get the boys real loose, and not alcohol induced, he went for something more subtle.

 

Grinning down at what he held in his hands he closed his eyes, he hoped to hell that Sammy would find this funny, 'cause, damn! This was going to ruin some lives.

 

~~~

 

Concentrating solely on the teachers voice he tried not to pay attention to the surrounding glances, he hated sympathy almost as much as the disgust.

 

That concentration was broken when he heard a gasp, a rather loud, ringing gasp, and what the fuck? Was that coming from the speakers?

 

The teacher, a man with graying hair and a cliche` pocket protector, frowned, turning away from the board to focus on the announcement, hand raising to silence the class. 

 

Then it came again. Followed by a moan.

 

All around the room people began to cover their mouths with their hands, hiding grins and laughter. Sam wasn't much inclined to follow at the moment, mostly because he had no fucking clue what this was.

 

Until he heard the two sounds appear at the same time.

 

Two male sounds.

 

There were shocked glances shared, increasing when a sentence came across, the rather distinct voice of the schools resident football star.

 

"Fuck, Jim, yeah, right there!" 

 

Then the scraping of metal on linoleum and papers flying, and oh god, were they fucking on the freaking Principal's desk?

 

"Ya' like that Dan? Taking it up the ass you fucking fag?"

 

Where was principal? The secretary for Christs sake! Some form of authority had to be hearing this and wanting to stop it.

 

And then Sam could heard it, acute sense of hearing picking up the noises beyond the panting grunts, the banging on a door and a whole lot of muffled, teeny tiny voices yelling.

 

And that was when it dawned on Sam what might be going on. Dean.

 

But the one question that was running through his mind was, how the fuck had his brother pulled this off? The teacher seemed to have realized what was going on as he suddenly got red in the face, struggling to regain the attention of the class as he waved his hands.

 

"All right, all right class! Look up front, ignore what's goin-"

 

"Hell yeah!"

 

"On in the background, focus on the math people-"

 

"Take that up baby!"

 

"Oh for heaven's sake!"

 

"You cock whore, yeah, like that!" The noise of wood breaking came across the lines.

 

"What in the lords name is going on here! Yemins, Leach, what is the meaning of this?"

 

Oh yeah, that sealed the deal, there were a lot of Jim's and Dan's but not a whole lot of those. Great job Simmons, real help to your stars.

 

He was so kissing Dean when he saw him.


End file.
